Differentiating Thresholds
by panderia
Summary: In a darkened church, on a rainy night, two old enemies come face to face. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy find out that what they believed happened all those years ago is different from the truth. H/D slash
1. Familiar Stranger

**Chapter 1-Familiar Stranger**

Red and blue lights swam in the periphery of his vision. Silently, he thanked Mother Nature for the pouring rain that created a watery curtain around him. Only one more block and he would be safe, ensconced in the sanctuary that was Saint Michael's Church without having to worry about silver cuffs being clapped around his wrists, _again_.

It was only a candy bar, he rationalized. Less than a pound's worth of sugar and he was being hunted down like some sort of animal. Not that he wasn't used to it. It wasn't the first time he had been caught stealing. He just didn't fancy spending another night in a cold, dank cell with smelly old drunks and half-dressed prostitutes. The first two times were enough, no use adding a third to the list.

"STOP!"

The officer's amplified voice rang out on the quiet street but he ignored it. He could see the shadowy shape of Saint Michael's right ahead and picked up his pace, foot catching on the uneven pavement. He went down hard, knees slamming into the ground with brutal force. The man climbed shakily to his feet and winced as the rain fell on his scraped knees. Ignoring the pain, he began to run again.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

A car door slammed and a second later the slap-slap of the officer's shoes echoed against the wet pavement. He slipped his pistol from the waistband of his jeans and cocked it. Three strikes and you're out, the officer had told him last time as he grinned savagely at him. There was no way he was letting them take him _there_. Not ever.

He fumbled up the steps of the church and pulled hard on the door handle. The door didn't budge. "FUCK!" He tried again but nothing.

"THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND TURN AROUND. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST."

The man turned on the spot, sheer panic on his face. _Not now, not when I'm this close_, he pleaded silently. He lifted the pistol and pointed it at the officer, backing up towards the doors of the church.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON!" The officer slowly inched forward, gun trained on him.

The second his back collided with the heavy wooden door, he felt it give way and inwardly cursed himself for his stupidity. He grinned maniacally as he slowly walked backwards into the church, gun still pointed at the cop. The officer was yelling at him but the rush of blood in his ears drowned out any and all sound save the frantic beating of his heart.

Draco Malfoy slumped against the massive doors of the church, panting. _So much for staying out of trouble_, he thought wryly. Soaked head to toe, it was nearly impossible to stop the shivering that engulfed his body but he fought against it, shakily pulling himself to his feet and pushing his sopping blond mane off his face. He needed to dry himself off. _And find something to eat_, he thought as his stomach cramped painfully and he realized the stupid candy bar that had gotten him into this in the first place had slipped from his fingers sometime during the chase.

He made his way out of the vestibule and into the main church. The area was dimly lit, moonlight casting the only light in the ancient building. Quietly, he crept across the back of the church, ears peeled for any sound. He had seen no one so far and for that he was grateful. Being engaged in conversation with a priest or some friendly Christian was not what he wanted at the moment.

And then he heard it. Barely audible and almost imagined: a sigh. He would have discarded it for his own breathing if a small clink of a glass hadn't followed. Draco, pistol still in hand, held it low heading in the direction of the sound. No use starting trouble if he didn't have to.

A man stood in front of a table of candles, arm extended over the sea of flames. He touched the tip of the match to the wick of one of the unlit candles and watched as the action produced a flare of light and then died down. He blew out the match tip and placed it on the table before clasping his hands behind his back and turning his face upward. His eyes fluttered shut and then his lips began to move in silent prayer. A shot of recognition rushed through him. He had seen someone do that once, a long time ago.

In a darkened hallway, bathed in moonlight, he had watched a raven-haired boy stand in that same position and pray. The awe he felt at watching The-Boy-Who-Lived in such a private moment overcame the hate that had raged inside him only moments before. If he had been smart, he would have made his move then, knocked him out and brought him straight to the Dark Lord as directed, but something stopped him. Something indescribable, something so foreign that he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but stare blankly at the other boy.

He had no idea how long he stood there in the shadows, hand gripping the stone statue beside him, Potter's silent prayer for his parents, his godfather, his friends seeming to go on forever. When he finally did finish, he let out a soft sigh, turned and then headed right towards Draco. Malfoy shrank back into the shadows, flattening himself against the wall behind him. He prayed Potter wouldn't notice him and he didn't, instead strolling right past him down the hall and into the darkness. It was only when he was sure the other boy was gone that he let himself slide to the floor, hands trembling before him. He buried his face in them and took a deep shuddering breath.

He couldn't kill Potter. He knew that now. They were classmates, rivals, they had grown up together and as much as he may have hated the boy, he couldn't be responsible for his death. Handing him over to Voldemort would be just as bad as pointing the wand at him himself.

Draco shook the memory away and cleared his throat. Slowly, the man turned around and the blond couldn't help the small gasp that escaped him. Haunted was too weak a word to describe the man before him. Death may have been more appropriate. His eyes were still the emerald green they had always been, but as they stared at him now, there was something darker hiding just behind them, something that said "I've killed before and I won't hesitate to do it again." But that wasn't the only difference. Gone were the nerdy glasses that he was never seen without during his Hogwarts day. The unruly black hair of his youth had grown to his shoulders in soft waves. And though he matched Draco in height, his build was strong and muscular, making the blond feel dwarfed in his presence.

"Potter?"

He breathed the name so low; it came out as a whisper. The man's brows furrowed in concentration before recognition dawned on him.

"Malfoy?"

He raked a hand through his dark hair and the long strands parted, giving Draco a clear view of the infamous lightning scar. Unconsciously, his eyes were drawn to it and he thought it odd that he had never, in all his years of knowing him, truly looked at it. It wasn't until Potter's next words that he drew his eyes away.

"You're supposed to be dead. They held a funeral for you and everything."

"A _funeral_? What are you on about?" He stared at the other man blankly. Surely Potter hadn't gone daft after the war?

"There was a funeral for you, Malfoy, at Hogwarts . . . _What happened_?"

There was a pleading note in his voice as he stepped forward. Draco forced himself not to take a step back. Harry's eyes raked over him as he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. He reached out a hand toward Draco and this time he did take a step back. The other man made to step forward again but Draco's raised pistol stopped him.

"Don't come any closer, Potter."

Harry's eyes clouded over for a moment and then the darkness Draco had seen in them when he had first turned around was back.

"Why? Scared, Malfoy?" he challenged.

"_No_," Draco spat. He glared back at his former nemesis knowing that it was a lie. Indeed he was scared. Scared of finding out what had happened to make them all think he was dead, scared of that maniacal look in Potter's eyes, scared of what couldhappen if he stayed here any longer.

"Forget we ever saw each other. This never happened." He started to back away, gun still pointed at the other man, when his vision began to swim in front of his eyes. He clutched at the pew beside him in an effort to steady himself.

"Malfoy?"

Draco blinked a few times to try to clear his vision but it didn't work. He had to get out of here, away from _him_. He pushed past Harry and headed towards the front of the church. There was a side exit leading off to a small courtyard and then an alley. He could disappear unseen into the night, forgetting Potter and Hogwarts and his past. He grabbed the pews for support as he forced himself to keep walking. He could hear Potter's footsteps getting closer but he didn't care. He had to keep going.

"Malfoy, wait."

Potter's voice sounded so far away though his conscious mind told him he was only a few steps behind. Draco didn't answer, just kept walking, even as his legs wobbled beneath him. He stumbled and tried to stay upright but the effort was futile. He fell to his knees, the pistol landing on the floor beside him with a clang. The noise echoed off the stone walls and he felt himself flinch at it.

"Malfoy, are you all right?" Potter was suddenly beside him, face only inches from his own.

"Do I look bloody alright?" he ground out between clenched teeth. He looked over into the other man's face and wanted to laugh at the concerned look on Potter's face. "I'm fine," he stated, more to convince himself than anything. But even as he said the words, the blackness that had been threatening to overtake him finally won out and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, Potter's worried face looming over him the last thing he saw.


	2. A Gun to the Head, A Scar on the Chest

**Chapter 2-A Gun to the Head, A Scar on the Chest**

Draco didn't need to open his eyes to know there was someone sitting off to his right. The heat radiating off the body was enough to warn anyone. He willed himself not to move, face relaxed, breathing at a steady rhythm. And then the man – he knew it was a man, no woman smelled like _that_ – leaned over him. There was hot breath on his face and he could feel the other man's eyes boring into his face through his closed eyelids. Then suddenly, the breath was gone and a minute of tensed silence stretched between them.

"Open your eyes, Malfoy. I know you're awake."

Potter. Of all the people in the world, it just _had_ to be Potter.

Draco opened his eyes to find a pistol, his own at that, aimed at his chest, Harry's face staring placidly at him from behind. There was a split second of panic before understanding set in. This was just a scare tactic, one to show that Potter was in charge. If he had wanted to shoot him, he would have done so already.

Slowly, he reached out and placed a hand around the barrel of the gun. "Come now, Potter, you don't really want to shoot me."

"Don't I?" He brought the pistol up to aim it directly between Draco's eyes. "Truth is, _Malfoy_, I really should after all the crap you've done to me."

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Harry chuckled. And just like that, he pulled the pistol back and stuck it in the waistband of his jeans. "I think I need a little more information first, like what the hell were you doing in Saint Michael's?"

"That's none of your business," Draco snapped as he sat up. There was a throbbing at his temples and his vision blurred for a second until he blinked and everything was clear again. He had to get out of here.

"I'm leaving."

He started to pull back the sheets but stopped when he realized he was wearing nothing beneath them. "What the hell have you done with my clothes?!" He yelled at him. He tried not to think of the fact that Potter had seen him naked, _all_ of him.

"I hung them up to dry. I couldn't exactly leave you in them. You were soaked through," he said calmly.

"Well, I'd like them back. I want to get as far away from you as soon as possible." He crossed his arms haughtily over his chest and glared at Harry.

"You're not going anywhere, Malfoy. You're still running a high fever and you've been out of it for two days. I won't be responsible for your death."

"What? Are you a nurse now, Potter? How sweet. But I don't give a shit what you think. I'm leaving—"

Whatever else the blond had been about to say was silenced the second he found the gun pointed at him again.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Potter? Have you gone completely mental? Why would you even _want_ to keep me here?"

"I told you, Malfoy," he sighed. "I don't want to be responsible for your death is all. I'll bring you some food. You can eat, rest up a bit and then in the morning, if you feel better, you can go. I won't stop you. But not till tomorrow. Deal?"

Draco let out a frustrated growl and plopped back down onto the pillows. "Fine, whatever." Harry lowered the gun and stared at Draco for a minute, then spoke.

"I'll be back with some food in a bit. Rest up," he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

_What the hell is going on with him?_ Draco thought angrily. The second he opened his eyes, he expected to be thrown out on his ass. Instead, he was being held here against his will. Not that he really had anywhere to go. After spending the last two months sleeping on the streets, it was like heaven to wake up in a nice warm bed instead, even if it was Harry Potter's. _So one more night couldn't hurt, right?_ It'd be a free meal and a free place to stay and then he could go on his way and forget he had ever seen The Boy Who Lived.

Resignedly, Draco lay back and drifted off to sleep. It was almost an hour later when he woke up to Potter shaking his shoulder.

"You need to eat," he murmured, close to his ear. He helped him sit up and propped a couple of pillows behind his head, then placed a tray over his lap. Draco took one look at the bowl of soup and slice of bread and started devouring it instantly. It felt so good to finally have a nice hot meal in his stomach. It had been so long since the last one. He only slowed down when he heard Harry chuckle beside him.

"What?" His tone was defensive and he glared at the dark-haired man.

"Hungry, Malfoy?" He laughed again and walked out of the room, shaking his head.

Draco was tempted to throw the bowl of soup at his retreating back. _Fuck you_, he wanted to scream, but held it in. He took a few deep breaths trying to calm himself. Potter frustrated him to no end. Even during their Hogwarts days he had done the same, but at least back then he could tell what was going through the Gryffindor's mind. His emotions had been etched there on his face, clear for all to see. And now? Now he couldn't read a damn thing. When had that happened? _When he grew up_, a voice inside him answered. Draco thought about that and supposed it was true. It had been almost nine years since he had last seen Potter, nine years since he had last seen _anyone_ from the wizarding world. Because of the things that had happened since then, he liked to think he wasn't the same petulant child he was before. But when Harry was near him, he couldn't help the snarky remarks. It just seemed so…_natural_. And yet here they were both grown men and Draco still felt like they were back on the quidditch pitch fighting it out for dominance. It was stupid really, completely and utterly stupid.

He turned back to his soup and realized it had gone cold so he set the tray on the floor beside the bed and within minutes had already nodded off again.

"_Who are you? Get out of my house this instant! I say–what are you–no! Please, no! We'll give you anything you want. Anything." The man's eyes were wide with fright._

_Tears ran down the woman's cheeks as she looked him. Please, her eyes begged silently. Please don't do this. He looked away. He had to. Now was not the time to let his emotions get the better of him. If _he _noticed…he shuddered at the thought and out of the corner of his eye saw one of the other men glance at him. He needed to pull himself together; this wasn't the time or the place._

_The man was on his knees now, begging, the woman behind him, shaking violently. "Please, you can have anything," the man pleaded. "Please—" _

_A violent burst of green light filled the room._

Draco bolted upright in bed, his heart almost bursting from his chest. _No,_ he told himself. _No, no, no, no, NO! _It had been almost six months since the last one, six long bloody months and he thought it was over. They were supposed to gone. _The nightmares were supposed to be gone._ And yet here he was in Potter's flat of all places when they decided to come back. Had he heard him? He froze at the thought and then heard music filtering in from one of the other rooms and let out a sigh of relief. There was no way he would have heard him over that.

Curiosity and his aching bladder had him climbing out of bed. His clothes were folded neatly on a chair by the bed, the one Potter had been sitting in earlier, and he slipped them on. He noticed the holes from when he fell the other night were repaired and made a note to thank him later. Right now, he needed to find the loo. He went to the bathroom, relieved himself, and took a long look at his reflection in mirror as he washed his hands.

He looked terribly thin, he noted. His cheekbones were more pronounced than usual and his eyes had dark circles under them. His hair was much longer than he preferred it, reaching almost chin length now. He dried his hands then quickly ran his hands through it in an attempt to straighten it. _It could be worse_, he thought. Draco shrugged, and then walked out of the bathroom and down the hall towards the music.

The beat was heavy and dark, almost mesmerizing. A woman's voice weaved in and out, hauntingly slow. He thought it quite fitting, remembering the look in Harry's eyes that night in the church.

The door to Potter's bedroom was wide open and Draco peered in to find the other man lying flat on his back, shirt unbuttoned, cigarette in hand. He brought it up to his lips and took a long drag. Draco watched the smoke rise from between Harry's lips and parted his own in return, mimicking the other man's movements. Realizing his actions, he began to back out of the room when Potter's voice stopped him.

"You can come in if you want," Harry drawled. He didn't move, just took another drag from his cigarette, eyes trained on the ceiling.

Draco stood on the threshold, uneasy. He desperately wanted to turn around and head back to his room, but Potter knew he was there so there was no other choice. He stepped through the door and looked around. It was like being bathed in milky whiteness: white sheets, white pillows, white rug, the list went on and on. The only thing that broke the monotony was the darkness of Potter lying smack dab in the middle of it all. Draco's eyes quickly took in the other man but stopped when he caught sight of the numerous scars across his chest. One stood out among the rest, bright pink on creamy skin, as if it was only recently made. Draco had to admit it looked like it had to have been pretty painful.

"Go on." Harry's voice sounded unnaturally loud and he looked up to find him still staring at the ceiling. "You can ask."

Draco leaned casually against the dresser. "Did _he_ do it?"

"Voldemort? No."

Draco was a little surprised at that fact and then felt a shadow creeping over him. "Then who?" What if it had been his own father? Is that why Potter was keeping him here? As some sort of revenge?

Harry was quiet for a few minutes but when he spoke there was such sadness in his voice, he felt a pang of regret for even asking it.

"Someone I once considered a friend."

There was finality in his tone that Draco didn't want to challenge, so he stood there awkwardly, watching Potter take a last drag from his cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray at his side. He brought himself up on his elbows, finally turning his eyes to the blond.

"Is there anyone you need to contact, let them know you're okay?" Harry asked.

"Why Potter, is that your way of asking if I have a girlfriend?" came the sarcastic reply. Draco groaned inwardly. Why the hell did he say that? Maybe he still was that same petulant child after all.

Harry just shook his head and dropped back down onto his back. He closed his eyes and lay silent.

Draco wanted to kick himself. Potter was trying to be civil; he could at least do the same. He walked over the bed. "No, there isn't anyone to contact."

Harry's eyes shot open and he turned his face toward Malfoy's.

"Oh."

And then he just stared. And Draco stared back not knowing exactly what to do except that.

It was the screeching of a woman's voice that brought them out of the trance.

"Potter? Where the hell are you? You better be home!"

"Shit!" Harry bolted upright and quickly started buttoning his shirt.

Draco stepped back, not quite sure of what had just happened.

"Potter, get your arse out here right now!"

"Girlfriend?" Draco asked with an amused smirk as he watched Harry rushing to make himself presentable.

"No," he grumbled. "Granger."


	3. Granger

**Chapter 3 – Granger**

"Do you think its funny not answering your owls? Minerva's written me three times already asking if you're okay. Two weeks, Potter! You cannot go two weeks ignoring people. They worry. _I _worry. And Minerva needs a response as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for her to find a replacement if you turn her down. This is serious, Harry." Her voice softened. "Are you okay?" Potter had the decency to look abashed.

"I'm fine. I just had some stuff on my mind."

"Oh, Harry." She unfastened her cloak and threw it across the back of the sofa, then laid a hand on his forearm. "Do you want to talk about it?" Potter shrugged. "Let's sit down." They settled onto the couch, Granger's hand rubbing circles on Potter's back.

Draco hung back in the hallway, glad the sofa was facing the opposite direction so he wouldn't be caught eavesdropping. He looked at Hermione carefully, thinking that if Harry hadn't told him who it was, he probably wouldn't have recognized her. Her hair was cut short in a bob and dyed a deep burgundy. She wore stylish glasses and Draco thought she must have gone blind from staring at so many old tomes. Even her posture was different—she held herself with a confident grace she had lacked during her childhood.

When it was obvious Harry wasn't going to say anything, Hermione spoke again.

"Maybe you should talk to someone…a healer, perhaps."

"No," Potter said firmly.

"Harry…it might help."

"Mione, I am _not_ seeing a healer!"

"Don't you ever call me that. You know how I feel about that name." Her voice was fierce.

"I know. I'm sorry." There was a moment of contemplative silence before Harry spoke again. "Stay for dinner. You can fill me in on everything that's been going on." There was mutinous look in her eyes but she nodded anyway. "Good," Harry began. "But first I need to tell you something." Draco could hear the nervousness in his voice. "I have a guest...someone...well, someone from the past, you could say."

Hermione's eyes lit up and she jumped off the couch, looking around expectantly. "Who? Oh, is it Dean? Seamus? Don't tell me, it's Neville, isn't it? It's been ages since I've seen him." Harry chuckled.

"No. None of them. Actually, it's not really someone you'd expect, or like for that matter."

"Well, who is it?"

Harry's hesitation was obvious as he shot a quick glance to the hall where the blond was hiding. Draco flattened himself against the wall, hoping he hadn't been caught.

"You can come out, Malfoy."

"Damn," he muttered as he steeled himself to face them. He could hear Granger's voice from the other room. She was talking rather slowly, annunciating each word as if Potter were a child and she was explaining something to him for the twelfth time because he just didn't get it.

"But he's dead, Harry. There was a funeral, remember? _Draco. Malfoy. Is. Dead._"

"So I keep hearing," Draco drawled as he stepped out of the hallway and into the living room. "But as you can see, I'm very much alive. Hello, Granger." He felt like he was sixteen again and smirked at the absurdity of it all.

Hermione looked from Draco to Harry and then back again before crossing the room and stopping only inches from him. He raised an eyebrow, half expecting her to pinch him and see if he was real, when her hand connected hard with the soft skin of his cheek. The force was enough to make him wobble for a moment. When he regained his balance, he brought a hand up to the burning skin and glared at her. The urge to strike her back was tremendous but he resisted; he had never once hit a woman and wouldn't start now.

"I see you still have your violent streak," he snarled, reminded of that moment in third year when she had struck out at him in a similar fashion.

"You bastard!" She lunged forward but a strong arm around her middle stopped her. "Do you know what _he_ went through? What _I_ went through? Do you know what you did making everyone believe you were dead? How could you? How _could_ you? You coward!" She pointed an accusing finger at him.

"He doesn't know," Harry murmured into her ear. "He didn't even know about the funeral. He doesn't know." Her body relaxed at his words and she pulled herself out of his arms, collapsing onto the armchair behind them.

"Merlin," she breathed as she buried her face in her hands.

Draco looked from Hermione to Harry, confused. What were they talking about? Why would his death affect either one of them? "Potter, I–" _I what?_ He thought. He couldn't say he was sorry; he didn't know what he was supposed to be sorry about. He felt the anger rising in him.

"Will someone please tell me what in all hell this is about," he spat through gritted teeth. He looked between the two of them, Hermione still with her face in her hands, sobbing now and Harry rubbing his eyes. Potter sighed, glanced at Granger and then turned back to Draco.

"Why don't you go rest up a bit before dinner?"

"Potter—" he began, clenching his hands tightly at his sides to keep from reaching out and strangling the other man. Harry moved closer until he was only inches from his face.

"Malfoy," he said threateningly.

"I want an answer now," Draco ground out. The two men stared each other down. It was Harry who looked away first. He glanced back at Hermione again before locking eyes with Draco.

"Fine, but only after she's gone." He tone was firm and as much as the blond wanted to argue with him, he knew it would be useless.

"Whatever," he spat. "I'm taking a shower. I expect dinner to be ready when I return." He knew the comment was petty and childish but he didn't care. It was better than throttling Potter. He strode from the room and headed toward the bath.

"But you don't, do you?"

Granger's voice drifted in from the kitchen. Draco stood outside the kitchen door, freshly showered and, if possible, in an even fouler mood.

"I don't know. Do you know what it's like to find out he's alive? I still can't believe it." Harry's voice was soft. The sounds of dishes being removed from a cabinet were heard before he spoke again. "It hurts, Hermione. It hurts so much after all these years."

"I know, Harry," she soothed. "I know."

Draco fiddled with the hem of his shirt. A million thoughts were whirling through his mind. He and Potter had not been friends during Hogwarts; he wouldn't even dare to call them acquaintances and yet his death seemed to have had a profound impact on both his and Granger's lives. Why?

He supposed if things had been different, if Potter had died, he may have felt…something. _You know you would have felt something_, that voice inside said. _You spent almost seven years spitting venom at him, trying to torture him, making his life even more miserable than it already was._ _You would have missed him whether you liked it or not._

"No, I wouldn't have," he mumbled softly to himself and yet…

He was actually glad when Potter burst through the kitchen door, dishware in hand. He placed two settings on one side for him and Hermione then came around to the other side to fix Draco's setting. It was only when he was heading back into the kitchen that he even acknowledged Draco. "Be nice," he said softly before slipping into the other room.

_I'm always nice,_ he shot back mentally, settling himself down at the table.

It was less than a minute later before Harry returned, a large bowl of pasta and a plate of rolls in hand. Hermione followed behind him with a bottle of red wine and three wine glasses. Harry took the seat directly across from his and started piling food onto his plate with gusto. Granger, meanwhile, fiddled with the cork on the bottle and finally popped it open, pouring herself and Harry each a glass of the wine. Draco opened his mouth to remark but a warning glance from Harry stopped him. Instead he grabbed the bottle of wine from the middle of the table where she left it and haughtily poured himself a glass.

The dinner itself was horribly awkward. He expected the two ex-Gryffindors to least talk to each other but the only sounds were chewing and the clink of bottle against glass as more glasses were refilled. Draco couldn't take the tension anymore. He needed to say _something_.

"So where's the other member of the Golden Trio? Don't tell me he's run off and gotten married to someone other than you, Granger. With the way you two swooned over each other at school, I'm surprised you don't have a bunch of red-headed brats in tow." He scooped the last of his pasta off his plate, oblivious to the seething looks the other two shot his way. "Perhaps Weasley's at home babysitting?" The fork was half-way to his mouth when he finally looked up and froze.

"Always have to go and ruin everything, don't you, Malfoy?"

Potter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Draco, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what he had done.

"What?" he asked.

"Thanks for dinner, Harry." Hermione pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Hermione, don't go," Harry pleaded, a hand on her arm. She took one long look at Draco and shook her head.

"I need to be getting back. I've still got to reconcile the books for the store." She walked back into the living room and grabbed her jacket where it lay over the back of the couch. "Goodnight, Harry," she said before disapparating with a loud crack.

Harry stood staring at the spot Granger had just disappeared from for a moment before gathering up the dishes. Draco stood to help, stacking his plate on top of the other two.

"Don't." Harry's hand gripped his wrist almost to the point of pain. He looked up to find the green eyes staring back at him coldly. "You've done enough tonight."

Draco stared open-mouthed as Potter disappeared into the kitchen. He still didn't understand what had gone wrong. It was just a little teasing. He had meant no harm. So why was Harry so mad at him? Frustrated, he stalked off to his room. He was already settled into bed and half-asleep when he heard muffled footsteps outside his room. He lay there in the dark waiting for Potter to knock but, after a moment's hesitation, he walked away instead.

"Whatever," Draco mumbled to himself watching a sliver of moonlight dance across the ceiling. He'd be gone tomorrow and Potter would just be a fleeting memory.

It was a half hour later when the door creaked open and Potter walked in shutting them both in semi-darkness. Draco sat up, noticing that Harry carried something in his hands, a bowl perhaps, the silvery light emanating from it partially illuminating the room. He placed it on the bed next to Draco and that's when he realized it wasn't a bowl at all but a pensieve.

"It was Dumbledore's," Harry said softly as his fingers traced over the runes etched along the basin. For a moment, he became lost in thought and Draco watched him, mesmerized. "There are a couple different ones in there," he finally said. "Maybe it'll answer some of your questions." He gave him a half-hearted smile and then walked out of the room.

Draco reached out a hand toward the basin but stopped right before his fingertips brushed the surface of the silvery wisps. He had the answers to his questions right in front of him so why was he hesitating? _Because it's going to change everything._ Somehow he knew it was true and the thought paralyzed him. Was he ready for this? _Do I really have a choice?_ But he already knew the answer. He took a deep breath and plunged headfirst into Potter's memories.

The second his feet touched the ground, Draco knew exactly where he was. The Gryffindor boys' dorms weren't much different from Slytherin's aside from the garish red and gold. At first it looked as though he were completely alone, but then he spotted a lone figure curled up by the window. Harry sat gazing out at the grounds, his clothes a rumpled mess and his hair equally so. Draco walked toward him but something on the bed nearest Potter caught his eye. He picked up the newspaper clipping and almost dropped it when he read the headline.

_**FIRE AT MALFOY MANOR; WIFE AND SON PERISH**_

_A suspicious fire erupted at the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire last night. Narcissa Black Malfoy, wife of convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, and their son, 7__th__ year Hogwarts student Draco Malfoy, were at home at the time of the blaze. The cause of the fire is yet unknown, though rumors have been circulating that You-Know-Who is responsible despite Mr. Malfoy's connection to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lucius is currently serving time in Azkaban after his arrest from the Ministry almost two years ago. He could not be reached for comment._

Beneath the article was a picture of the Manor, wisps of smoke still curling up from the ashes. It was dated March 15, two days after he had disappeared. He let the paper slip from his fingers and slid down to the floor, his head resting against the bed. A lone tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He brushed it away, resisting the urge to cry. _Not yet,_ he told himself. _Later._

A soft knock at the door brought his attention back to Harry and he willed himself to concentrate on the scene before him. Potter looked at the door but made no move to get it.

"Harry, can we talk?" It was Granger's voice. "Please Harry. Ron's gone down to Hogsmeade with Seamus and Neville so you don't have to worry about him listening in."

Harry raised his wand and flicked it towards the door which sprang open, then turned his gaze back to the window. Hermione, looking just as he had remembered her during Hogwarts, walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She made her way to the windowsill and sat down across from Potter. After a few minutes of silence, he looked over at her and unexpectedly, to Draco at least, burst into tears. Great heaving sobs racked his body as Hermione enveloped him in her arms.

"It'll be okay," she whispered softly as she rubbed his back. Draco was surprised to see tears sliding silently down her cheeks as well.

"He's gone, Hermione. He's gone."

Draco gaped at the two Gryffindors. Was Potter crying over…_him?_ Hermione's word from earlier echoed in his mind. _Do you know what __he__ went through?_ _Do you know what you did making everyone believe you were dead?_ Potter didn't…no, he refused to believe it.

He watched them carefully, hoping his hunch was wrong. Hermione wiped the tears from Potter's cheeks with her thumbs. Potter eyed her for a moment and in that moment Draco saw the change in Harry, so small that had he not been really paying attention, he wouldn't have noticed at all.

Harry leaned over and brushed his lips gently against Granger's. Her eyes widened in shock and then closed. She sat there stiffly, Potter's hand in her hair keeping her from moving. He could tell there was a battle waging within her as she lifted her arm to push him away but after a moment of letting it hover in the air between them, she let it drop down to her side and visibly relaxed. Tentatively, she kissed him back. Harry began to pull her closer and Draco could see the desperation in him. Harry needed this, wanted this, thought that it would make him forget. _But it won't,_ Draco thought sadly. _It never really does._

If it wasn't for the creaking of a floorboard, none of them would have noticed Weasley had come into the room. His face was redder than Draco had ever seen it as he mumbled, "I forgot something."

Hermione jumped up from her seat at the windowsill. "Ron, it's not what you think."

Draco rolled his eyes at her comment. How typical.

Weasley turned to Harry, waiting for him to deny what he had clearly seen with his own eyes but he sat silent, staring out at the grounds.

"Harry, tell him!" Hermione's voice wobbled. When Potter didn't say a word, she burst into tears and stumbled over to the other man. "Ron, nothing happened. It was a stupid kiss, just a silly little kiss!" She reached out for him but he recoiled.

"Don't ever touch me again," he spat. He took one last look at Harry and then strode from the room.

Draco watched the scene dissolve before him and then clear again. He was still in the Gryffindor boys' dorms but it was night. Someone was snoring loudly and he wasn't at all surprised to see it was Longbottom. He looked around the room for Harry but didn't see him. It was then he noticed the drapes around one of the four posters were closed.

Draco slowly pulled them open and almost felt his heart stop. Weasley kneeled over a shirtless Potter looking murderous, a long sharp knife in his hand. Draco stepped closer to the head of the bed where Harry lay and noticed Potter's body lay stiff as a board against the sheets. The little prat had used a body bind curse on him and Harry could do nothing. Weasley was talking now, his words coming out low and harsh, the knife inching closer to Harry's chest.

"I was going to ask her to marry me, you know that, Harry. _I was going to ask her to marry me._ And then you had to take that all away didn't you? You just have to have everything, don't you?" He pushed the knife into the flesh, not deep but just hard enough to break the skin. Draco watched Harry's eyes start to water. "She was mine, Harry. _Mine._ Do you know what it was like seeing you two? _Do you?_ I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest." Tears began to roll down his face. "I loved her, Harry. I still love her. And you…you were supposed to be my best friend." He sobbed openly and Draco watched tears also falling from Harry's unblinking eyes. Weasley had noticed too and it only served to make him angrier. "You were like a brother to me," he hissed as he dug the knife deeper into Potter's skin.

The blood pooled on Harry's chest and Draco had to look away. He fought the urge to retch and forced himself to look back. _God, there's so much blood, _he thought and had to remind himself that Potter would be fine, it was only a memory.

The scene faded around him again and this time he found himself in the Great Hall. Potter sat at the end of the table, alone. Draco noticed some of the other students shooting wary glances Harry's way. Weasley was nowhere to be seen. Granger rushed in a second later and ambushed Potter.

"Where is he?"

"I dunno."

"Harry…"

He said nothing, just continued eating his porridge.

"He's been missing for two days, Harry. This is serious."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but the words were muffled to Draco's ears as everything around him faded.

This time Draco found himself in a grassy field. Rain was pouring down all around them. Harry stood above a man, wand pressing into his throat, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He didn't know why but something about Potter's expression reminded him of his aunt Bella and he shuddered. The man laughed, exposing yellow crooked teeth.

"He begged for his life," the man said with obvious delight.

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK ABOUT HIM!"

Harry's wand was steady as he stepped back, letting the man rise to his feet. He clearly expected to outwit Potter, but he didn't even get the chance.

"Avada Kedavra."

There was a sickening thud as the body hit the grass.


	4. Father

**Warning: **suicide (not Harry or Draco)

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, WB and company. I'm just borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

**Chapter 4 – Father**

Draco felt his body hit the soft mattress as he was thrown out of Harry's memory and back into reality. He closed his eyes trying to settle the churning of his stomach but the image of the knife piercing Potter's skin flashed behind his closed eyelids. _There_ _was so much blood, so much fucking blood._ He felt the bile rise in his throat and ran as fast as he could down the hall and into the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light.

Kneeling on the tiled floor, Draco vomited until there was nothing left in him but dry heaves. Exhausted, he rested his cheek against the cool porcelain bowl and closed his eyes, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. No matter how much he tried, the image of Weasley standing over Harry with the knife wouldn't leave his mind.

"Malfoy, are you okay?"

Draco cracked open one eye and peered at the other man. He stood in the doorway, mostly in shadow, but even in the dark Draco could see the worry on his face.

"Oh yes, quite spiffing, Potter. I just felt the toilet needed a hug."

Harry laughed at the sarcastic reply, a hearty, full-bodied laugh that even had Draco cracking a small smile.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Before he could protest, Potter reached over and flushed the toilet, then put an arm around Draco and helped him to his feet. He pushed a stray lock of blond hair behind Draco's ear before releasing him.

"I'll be in the living room when you're ready," he said. The blond nodded, a little thrown by the other man's kindness and watched him disappear down the hall. A few minutes later he was seated across from Potter on the couch, both of them staring silently at the orange and red flames in the fireplace before them.

"What happened to my father?" Draco's voice sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.

"He died in Azkaban two days after the fire. He…hung himself."

Draco's heart seized in his chest. His father was gone…

_The small dingy cell was barely big enough to accommodate the three of them. He watched his father rise slowly from his cot, the effort taking most of his energy. His mother ran to help him and he smiled weakly at her. _

"_I've missed you, Cissa." Lucius' voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. He caressed his wife's cheek, wiping a lone tear away and then pulling her into his arms._

_Draco watched his parents and felt an ache in his chest. It had been almost six months since he had last visited his father. His mother came once a month and encouraged him to accompany her, but he usually refused. As much as he loved his father, he hated coming to Azkaban. Even now, he couldn't wait to leave._

_Lucius looked gaunt, unhealthy. The skin over his face was oddly pale, an almost translucent shade that made him look ghostly. Draco had to force himself not to shiver. What had happened to his father? What had this place done to him?_

"_Draco…" _

_Lucius held out his arms and Draco walked forward to embrace him. He was thankful he was facing the back wall of the cell and not his mother, for he couldn't help the look of disgust that passed over his face. A faint smell hung in the air around his father and Draco guessed it had been a few days since he had been allowed to shower. He tried to quell the anger that was rising in him at the thought. This was disgusting. The fact that his father had been reduced to such a person made him sick. Lucius finally pulled back but kept his hands on Draco's shoulders._

"_How are your studies going?"_

"_I'm getting top marks in potions," he replied. A part of him wished his father would release him so he could step out of the aura of stench surrounding him._

"_Good, good. I'm proud of you, son." His father patted him on the cheek._

"_I know, father."_

_Lucius took one last look at him before releasing him and Draco took the opportunity to take a few steps back. The thought of what he was doing sent a thread of shame through him._

"_The time has come, Lucius." His mother looked between the two men, her brow creased in worry. "Bella sent word last night. Saturday is the day."_

"_So soon?" Lucius seemed taken aback at the news, the concern showing openly on his face. Narcissa nodded grimly. _

"_Father, I don't want to take the mark."_

_Both his parents turned to him, pity on their faces. It was Lucius who spoke._

"_We've been over this before, Draco."_

"_There has to be a way." _

"_There is no other way. Your mother and I have done everything in our power to delay it as long as possible. The Dark Lord will not wait. You know what will happen if you refuse. You have no choice." His father's voice was stern._

_Of course he knew. When Voldemort wanted something, he got it. Those who chose to stand in his way only ended up dead. He had seen it plenty of times. Draco reluctantly nodded his ascent and saw his parents visibly relax. _

_There were three sharp knocks on the cell door signaling their time was over. He watched the tears fill his mother's eyes as she hugged Lucius tightly to her._

"_I love you," she whispered close to his ear before planting a quick kiss on his father's lips and then turning toward the door. She rushed out of the cell not bothering to look back and Draco knew it was because it broke her heart every time she was forced to say goodbye. _

"_Take care of your mother, Draco. She's not as strong as she looks," Lucius said when he was sure Narcissa was out of earshot._

"_Yes, father."_

_He felt like there was something else his father wanted to say to him but Lucius only nodded instead. Draco smiled weakly at him then turned to leave. He glanced back just as the guard was shutting the door to see his father seated on the cot, face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking. He stood rooted to the spot even after the door was shut and the guard began leading his mother down the hall. Draco had never seen his father cry._

"Malfoy?"

Draco blinked realizing that that was the last time he had seen his father.

He looked down when he felt a small amount of pressure on his arm to find Potter's hand clasping his forearm. He brought his eyes up to Harry's.

"What?"

"Are you okay? Your eyes were all glazed over and your hands were shaking. I thought maybe you were having a fit."

Draco's eyes went back to Harry's hand. It was calloused, rough against the smoothness of his skin.

"I was thinking," he said.

"Oh."

Harry's hand disappeared then and Draco vaguely wondered what it was that Potter did for a living to have such rough hands.

"Where are you going when you leave here?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I haven't really thought about it," Draco answered without thinking. He was still thinking of Potter's hand for some reason. "I don't really have anywhere to go, to tell you truth. I haven't exactly had a permanent residence in quite some time."

A twinge of embarrassment ran through him as he realized what he had just said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter open his mouth to speak but then promptly shut it. He knew he wanted to ask him where he had been, what he had been doing these past nine years, what had really happened the night of the fire, but he didn't. Just like Draco, he sat staring straight ahead into the fire. They stayed that way for awhile until Potter got up from the couch.

"You're free to stay here for a bit, until you can get back on your feet, if you want."

"Thank you," Draco said, somewhat surprised by the offer. He figured after the fiasco with Granger earlier, Potter wouldn't want him to stay any longer than necessary. Speaking of Granger…

"Why do you and Granger call each other by your last names? You never did that before."

"I knew you would eventually ask me this," Harry said with a smirk. He perched himself on the arm of the couch. "After what you saw in the pensieve happened, we stopped talking. We both felt responsible for what had happened to Ron and we were. It was our fault, _my_ fault that he died."

"But he tried to kill you."

"He would never have killed me," Harry insisted. Draco didn't seem so sure of that. The hatred Weasley had had on his face at the time proved otherwise. "He was angry, hurt. I was his best mate and I betrayed him. I didn't mean to and I tried to explain and Hermione tried to explain but he wouldn't hear it. You remember how his temper was. But he never would have killed me. Ron wasn't like that."

Draco begged to differ but he wouldn't tell Potter that.

"Either way, I guess we both figured that if we didn't see each other, didn't talk, it would be easier, make us forget somehow. In actuality, it made it harder. Four years went by without us speaking and then one day I get a letter from her asking me to meet for lunch. I couldn't just call her Hermione anymore. It just felt too…personal, I guess you could say. We didn't know each other anymore. We had whole new lives, were completely different people. So I called her Granger. She didn't seem to mind; I think she was relieved to tell you the truth. She referred to me as Potter as well and it didn't feel strange at all. Eventually we started using our given names again but the last names thing stuck." He shrugged. "Anymore questions?"

There were a million swirling through Draco's head but he had had enough for one night.

"Not at the moment."

"Okay then. I'm off to bed. Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight."

Draco watched Harry disappear down the hall, his mind whirling. He stretched out on the couch, mentally and physically exhausted. Within minutes had fallen asleep.

----------

"_Take care of your mother, Draco. She's not as strong as she looks."_

"_Yes, father," he replied as he walked out of the cell._

_He turned around to watch the guard shut the door, but the man grinned wickedly at him and nodded back toward the cell. Draco moved in slow motion to the open door, his heart pounding in his chest. His father stood on the edge of the cot, a length of rope suspended magically from the ceiling with a noose at the end hanging down in front of him. He slipped the noose over his head then tightened it around his neck._

"_I'm proud of you, son."_

_Lucius smiled then, the first real smile Draco had seen from his father since he was a child, as he stepped forward off the cot. He hung in the air for a moment as if the fates had stopped time to allow Draco one last look at his father's smiling face before there was a sickening crack. Lucius' neck snapped violently as his body flopped around involuntarily for a few seconds before going completely still. Horrified, Draco ran forward but his movements were sluggish, like he was trying to run through water._

"_Father!" he called helplessly knowing there would be no answer. "Please, father!" There were tears rolling down his cheeks now but he didn't care. He needed to get to Lucius, needed to get him down._

_He finally made it to Lucius and tentatively reached out to touch him. The second his fingers grasped his father's cold ones, he found himself in Malfoy Manor, his mother's hand in his grasp instead. She lay on the couch, so innocent and peaceful looking._

"_Mother?" _

_It was only when he felt the sweat trickling down his back that he noticed there were flames all around them. His first thought was to get her out of there; he wouldn't let her burn. He easily lifted his mother into his arms and carefully made his way through the sitting room and out into the entrance hall. The front door opened magically as he approached it and he was halfway down the front steps when Potter appeared out of nowhere._

"_Harry—"_

_But he was silenced when Potter raised his wand and a flash a green light exploded in front of his eyes._

Draco bolted upright not quite sure of where he was. He looked around the room and realized he was still in Potter's living room. _I must have passed out on the couch,_ he thought.

The fire had already died down in the grate and Draco could see the sky beginning to lighten. He half dragged himself to his room and slid under the covers, shivering and not from the cold. The nightmare came back to him then, the sight of his mother's limp body, his father smiling right before…

Draco felt the tears come and just like in the dream, didn't hold them back. His parents were gone. It was his decision that had cost them their lives, his mistake. _I killed them both. I killed them. It's my fault. It's my fault. _He repeated the words like a mantra, over and over until his tears dried and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-------------

It was mid-afternoon when Draco finally climbed out of bed. His body felt heavy but there was something different he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pushed the thought aside knowing he would end up mulling it over later anyway. As soon as he opened the door, he almost fell back in surprise. A patronus in the shape of a stag came galloping down the hall toward him.

"Malfoy," came Harry's voice from the shimmering vision when it stopped in front of him. "I had some errands to run and I didn't want to wake you to let you know I'd be out. I hope my patronus didn't frighten you." There was a short laugh and Draco rolled his eyes. "Anyway, if you get hungry, there's food in the fridge. I figure we're about the same size clothing-wise so I left you some extra clothes on the couch until we can get you some of your own. I should be back around six."

The stag patronus galloped in a circle around him before glowing brightly for a second and then disappearing. Draco stood still, feeling the magic swirl in the air around him. God, how he had missed it, missed the feel of it flowing through his veins. It began to drain away as quickly as it had come and he sighed at the loss. Magic was his life. It didn't matter that he had spent the last nine years devoid of it, it was still a part of him and he needed to find a way to get back into that world.

He made his way down the hall towards the living room to find the clothes Potter had mentioned but stopped when he approached Harry's bedroom. He stared inside, knowing he shouldn't go in but his curiosity was stronger. Telling himself he would only take a quick look around and then leave, he stepped gingerly into the room.

It looked just as it had in the darkness the night before, expect now he noticed the numerous pictures Potter had placed around the room. There was one of a dark-haired man with glasses and a woman whom Draco guessed were Potter's parents. Next to it sat one of Harry and Hermione. It must have been taken in their early years at Hogwarts because they both looked no more than thirteen. There were a few on his dresser, some of them faces Draco recognized but couldn't name. Two other photos hung side by side on the wall next to Harry's closet. One was a group shot and as Draco's eyes roamed over the various faces, he realized it was that group that Potter, Granger and Weasley had formed back in fifth year, Dumbledore's Army he recalled with a smirk. He remembered the moment he and the rest of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad captured them and the surge of satisfaction he felt at seeing Potter squirm. The memory brought a smile to his face. The other picture was of Potter and Sirius Black. Draco vaguely recalled his mother mentioning a relation to the man, but he had only been a young boy at the time and it hadn't mattered. It still didn't matter now but he thought it a strange coincidence Harry's godfather had been part of his own family.

Draco pulled open the doors to Potter's closet. It was disorganized; some items seemed to have been thrown haphazardly in. There were various dress pants and shirts, a gorgeous and no doubt expensive brown leather jacket and about a dozen pairs of trainers. Draco bent down to take a closer look at a navy pair at the end. He went to pick up the left shoe and cursed when his elbow bumped into something hard. He looked for the object in question but there was nothing there but air. Instinctively, he reached into the corner and his hand connected with something silky. He grasped it and pulled, revealing the object underneath. An invisibility cloak came off in his hands and beneath it was Potter's old school trunk. Draco stroked the fabric, feeling a bit jealous. _So that's how he got around all those years_, he thought. Setting aside the cloak, he pulled the trunk out of the corner and sat down on the carpeted floor in front of it. The Hogwarts crest was emblazoned on the front and he ran his fingers delicately over the "H." Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he actually missed the place.

Draco reached for the lock and was surprised to find none there. The latch itself was bent and rusted, the end broken off. He figured Potter must have busted it open long ago and not bothered to fix it. It was like an open invitation to snoop and Draco knew he couldn't resist. Taking the lid in both hands, he threw it back and peered inside.


	5. Spitting Image

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, WB and company. I'm just playing with them.

**A/N:** This was written after OotP and disregards HBP and DH.

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**Chapter 5 – Spitting Image**

A musty odor permeated Draco's nostrils as he leaned over Potter's Hogwarts trunk. His Quidditch uniform lay on top, scattered beneath that were wizard cards, dozens of them. Potter must have been an avid collector. He picked one up and was surprised to find it was of Harry. It read:

_Harry Potter, also known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, is the only person to ever survive the Avada Kedavra curse. He defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort (He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) twice, once as an infant, which earned him the infamous lightning bolt scar on his forehead and again in The War of Prophecy in 1998._

Draco turned the card back over and looked at the picture of Harry. It must have been taken soon after the war; he looked just as he had during their schooldays. Same unruly black hair, same round glasses. But the eyes had that haunted look they held now. The _body of a boy, the eyes of a man, _Draco thought. It was a sad look, one that held many secrets and told tales of death. Draco shuddered and set the card aside, not wanting that image ingrained in his mind.

Beneath those were some old school books: a Potions notebook, a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _and an old Transfiguration notebook. Blank pages of parchment and a few broken quills were buried at the bottom along with a small, brown, leather bound book that instantly drew his attention.

He pulled it out and began to flip through the pages. It was Potter's journal from his Hogwarts days. There were his Muggle musings on the wizarding world, various passages about that git Weasley, Granger, and to his surprise, one about him. He wasn't at all shocked to note that the entry was filled with various four-letter words.

He flipped ahead toward the end of the book and was startled when a piece of paper fluttered onto his lap. Upon closer inspection, he found that it wasn't a piece of paper at all.

A photo of Potter and Granger grinned up at him, Harry casually slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulders and then winking salaciously at the camera. It was a side he had never seen before, a side of the boy he was sure few had ever seen and it felt strangely intimate. Next to him, Hermione kept turning her head to look off to her left where the picture had been torn. That was then Draco noticed another arm around her waist and a quick flash of red hair as the unseen occupant shifted. Weasley. The image of him with the knife flashed into his mind and he found he had to take a calming breath. The bastard was dead and that was all that mattered, though he wasn't quite sure why he even cared. After one last wink from Harry, he slipped the photo back into the journal and turned to the last page. It was blank. Doubling back, he finally found the last entry and froze.

There, taped to the top of the page, was a picture of himself sitting under a tree. It must have been taken in the beginning of their seventh year before he left. His hair was already shoulder length. He had refused to cut it at all the previous year and during that last summer despite his father's wishes. It had made him feel alive, his last bit of freedom before he took the mark. He read the words beneath it and his heart stopped.

_He's gone. Draco's dead._

The script was wobbly and curved off at the end in a jagged line, as if Potter couldn't hold the quill straight. He thought back to the scene in the pensieve, Hermione holding Harry as he cried and he wondered if the other man still felt the same way about him. He should have felt disgust, anger, something other than the mild curiosity that was urging him to read on. There was nothing else on the page besides those four words, so he flipped to the one before it. The entry was dated two months prior to the last one.

_He's quieter, more withdrawn. I don't know what to make of it honestly. He's still beautiful of course. How could he not be? But sometimes I find myself hating him. Hating the fact that he's too blind to see that following in his father's footsteps is the biggest mistake he'll ever make. I swear I'll kill Lucius one day for everything he's done to me, to all of us._

When did it start? He needed to know. Draco flipped back until he found the entry he was looking for. He knew Potter would have written an entry his first night back at Hogwarts during their seventh year and he was right.

_Being back at Hogwarts this year is…strange. Quite a few of the students are missing. Neville and Seamus aren't here or Luna. Dean said Seamus' mum forbade him from coming back and Neville's been taken to a safe house. No one except Dumbledore knows where. Bellatrix Lestrange has been after him for months. I'm going to kill that woman before the end. I can promise you that._

_Half the Slytherins are missing. No surprise there. Malfoy came back though.__I honestly didn't expect him to return this year. I'm surprised he hasn't taken the mark yet and run off to join Voldemort just like his pathetic father. __There's something different about him__ as well. He walked right past me on the platform when we arrived without spitting one word toward me, Ron or Hermione. I think that's the first time in seven years I haven't been harassed by him. Something's definitely going on._

Each entry after that mentioned him in some way. Potter had been watching him on his "map," whatever that was. Potter, under his invisibility cloak, had followed Draco to the Quidditch pitch those nights he needed to get away. Potter had watched him across the Great Hall as he ate his supper. The Gryffindor had been stalking him and Draco hadn't even noticed.

He abruptly shut the journal, mind reeling. How could he have not noticed? And why didn't he feel disgusted? He should have been revolted. It was Potter, for fuck's sake! And yet…_didn't you do the same? Didn't you purposely follow him, seek him out just to see the expression on his face, to make him react? _His inner voice responded. He had; he knew he had. The hate and loathing and jealousy he felt for The Boy Who Lived was wrapped up in unending fascination that kept him doing those things. But he had never felt anything more than that. He had hated Potter. To know that Potter had thought of him _that _way though…

Flustered, he quickly placed everything back in the trunk, dragging it into the corner where the dent marks in the rug showed it had been sitting. Carefully, he draped the invisibility cloak over it and stood to make sure it all looked as it had before.

"What are you doing?" The voice was tight and barely above a whisper.

He turned to find Potter glaring at him from the doorway, fists clenched at his side. Draco took a deep breath and forced his body and voice into a mask of nonchalance.

"I was just looking at the photos. Did you know that Sirius Black was my cousin?"

The lie came easily to his lips. He saw the suspicion on Harry's face but kept an air of innocence. There was a rush of relief when Potter took the bait. Though his fists still remained clenched at his side, the tightness in his arms and shoulders released some.

"I've known since fifth year," Harry said brusquely. "There was a tapestry in the Black house with the family tree on it." Draco nodded.

"My mother told me about it. How did you know?"

"Sirius," he said by way of explanation. "It was headquarters for The Order of the Phoenix during the war and I lived there for awhile after it ended. Look, Malfoy," he said suddenly. "I don't mind you staying here, I really don't. But I don't want you in my room when I'm not around. Understood?"

"Sure, Potter," he said casually, a bit annoyed at being reprimanded, as he brushed past him and out of the room. He heard Potter's footsteps behind him as he made his way down the hall and into the living room.

The last rays of sunlight streamed in from the glass doors leading out to the balcony from the adjoined dining room. Draco sat himself down on the cream colored couch, watching the play of light on the wooden coffee table before him and waited for Potter to do the same. Instead, he headed out onto the balcony, slipping a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Slightly aggravated, Draco lifted himself off the couch with a loud sigh and followed him through the open door. The balcony was barely room enough for three or four people and a white iron railing ran around the edges of it. He rested his arms on it and leaned forward, watching the slow crawl of traffic on the street below.

"I need to go to the Ministry," he said matter-of-factly.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Draco turned angry eyes on Potter but the man stood staring calmly out at the horizon.

"What do you mean _you_ don't think it's a good idea?"

Draco's voice shook with anger which he didn't even try to mask. He tried to find the expression in Potter's eyes but the sooty lashes covered it as he glanced down at the street below. He took a long drag from his cigarette then flicked it over the railing.

"Malfoy, for the past nine years the whole of the wizarding world believed you were dead." He turned his head to look at him then and Draco was sure he saw something like sadness in the other man's eyes. "There was a fire at Malfoy Manor. Your mother died. Your father killed himself from the despair of knowing his family was dead-"

"I know this Potter," Draco ground out between gritted teeth. He resisted the urge to punch the other man in the face.

"All I'm saying is the circumstances are quite suspicious. No one knows where you were, what you did. You still haven't told me where you were." Harry lifted one heavy dark eyebrow and straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know what it looks like, don't you?"

"What does it look like, Potter? Enlighten me if you will." He was beyond aggravated now.

"It looks like you were the one who started the fire. Did you kill your mother, Malfoy? Did you fake your own death to-"

But he didn't even give Potter a chance to finish. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed the other man and slammed him into the glass door behind them. He could see cracks beginning to form and spread behind the other man, but he didn't care.

"_How dare you,"_ Draco spat into Potter's face. "I _loved_ her. I loved my mother, Potter and I would never _ever_ do anything to harm her. _I. Loved. Her._" Each word was punctuated with a hard shove. He looked into those unnaturally green eyes and saw the flash of surprise in them. They stared at each other for a few moments, Draco's eyes like daggers; Harry only staring back blankly. Then he gave Potter one last shove and released him, going back to his spot at the railing.

His whole body was shaking with rage. How could Potter insinuate that he could, _would_ do such a thing? Did it really look like that? Is that what everyone would think?

"Then what really happened?" He didn't take his eyes off the street below, but he could sense Potter beside him.

For a moment he thought of not answering the other man, remaining stubbornly silent, maybe even walking away and locking himself in his room until he calmed down. But then Potter's hand was on his shoulder and Draco turned venomous gray eyes on him. Harry's eyes were soft, understanding and Draco reluctantly felt his anger and resolve melting away. Not sure what to do, he turned back to the street and released an exasperated breath. Did it really matter if he told Potter or not?

"Malfoy…"

"It was all Snape's idea…"

_Potions class had just ended and Draco walked to Professor Snape's desk, handing him the small vial filled with the electric blue potion._

"_I'd like to see you in my office after supper, Mr. Malfoy." Draco stared at him wondering what he could have done to require such a meeting. "You may go," Snape said dismissively. He looked at his head of house in confusion for a second before composing himself and striding past the smirking faces of Finnegan and Weasley._

_Dinner was quite an unnerving affair and he found himself pushing his food around his plate rather than eating it. As soon as students started piling out of the Great Hall, he made his way down to the dungeons to Snape's office. He knocked on the heavy wooden door._

"_You may come in, Mr. Malfoy," he heard the older man say from the other side._

_Draco walked slowly into the office, eyes taking a minute to adjust to the low lighting. A fire burned in the grate off to the far right, the only source of light in the room, and it was there that he found Professor Snape seated. He gestured to the large armchair opposite his._

"_Sit."_

_Draco did as he was told, hands folded neatly in his lap, spine unnaturally straight. He had to admit he was nervous. He looked over at the dark-haired man and was surprised to see the weariness on his face. It was then Snape turned black eyes on him._

"_It is time, Draco. The Portkey will be ready in a few moments and then you will be transported to the manor. Your mother wishes to spend some time with you before you go."_

"_And when is it supposed to happen?"_

"_Sunday night."_

"_Oh."_

_There was a tightening in Draco's chest. So it was time. He would take the mark whether he wanted to or not. Snape must have seen the distress on his face for he reached out then and laid a hand on his shoulder._

"_There is another way," the man said, softly._

"_Sir?"_

"_I can offer you a way out, Draco." The young man's eyes went wide. "It will not be easy and it will hurt those you love…temporarily."_

"_What must I do?" The desperation was obvious in his voice, but he didn't care._

_Snape crossed to his desk and popped open a small hidden drawer on the underside of it. He pulled a vial out, a gray misty substance swirling inside the glass. He came back to Draco and handed it to him. The blond took the vial warily._

"_What is it, sir?"_

"_It's called a Spitting Image potion. It's banned by the Ministry of course. Very few people even know of its existence."_

"_What does it do?" He peered at the potion, the gray mist reminding him of rain clouds._

"_As the name suggests, it creates a spitting image of the drinker, a very corporeal version of you. A twin, if you will. The duplicate cannot speak or even think for itself. It is a blank copy, a clean slate."_

"_But I don't understand. How will that help?" _

_Snape sat back down in the armchair, face purposely avoiding Draco. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He knew whatever Snape was going to say next wouldn't be easy._

"_Tomorrow, after your mother has retired for the night, I want you to take the potion. There will be a tingling sensation throughout your whole body. When you feel that, then and only then you will step forward three steps. Count to five, then turn and your "spitting image" shall be there waiting for you. This is where the hard part comes in." Snape sighed and turned to Draco. "You will have to kill yourself." At the younger man's horrified look, he clarified. "You will have to kill your duplicate. After, you will place him on the bed and leave this-" He pulled another vial out of his robe pocket. "-in his hands. Then you are to leave. Take nothing, Draco, not even your wand."_

"_But how am I—"_

"_You will survive." The curtness in Snape's voice silenced the protest on the tip of his tongue._

"_And my mother? She'll think I'm—"_

"_Dead," Snape finished for him. "Yes, she will and so will The Dark Lord. It will look as if you took your own life. With Lucius in Azkaban and you "dead," Narcissa will not be of any use to the dark lord. You'll both be free."_

_Draco knew what Snape said was true. His mother would be free; Voldemort wouldn't want anything to do with her now that her husband and her son had failed him._

"_And where do I go?" he asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer._

"_Into the muggle world." Draco nodded. It had been exactly what he had expected him to say._

"_Will I ever be able to come back?" To think he may never see his parents again was terrifying._

"_When the war is ended and I feel it is safe, I will contact you. I cannot tell you how at the moment, but I will find you, Draco. I promise you that. But if I don't…"_

"…_then it means you didn't survive," he finished for him. Snape nodded. The words 'and you'll be stuck in the muggle world' hovered unspoken in the air between them._

"_It is up to you, of course. This is your decision."_

_Draco knew the words were true. Snape would never pressure him one way or the other. But there were so many things that could go wrong. Would he even be able to survive in the muggle world, alone, with no wand? But if he stayed…he'd either end up in Azkaban or dead, neither of which he found appealing._

"_I'll do it." He was surprised at the strength in his voice. Snape clasped both of his shoulders in his hands and looked Draco square in the eyes._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes."_

_And then Snape did something Draco wasn't prepared for. He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and in that moment Draco thought he didn't look as intimidating without the scowl on his face._

"_Good. I hoped you might say that." Suddenly, Snape's face sobered. "Are you ready?" Draco nodded and he pointed to a small empty glass jar on his desk. "The Portkey."_

_Slipping the vials into the inner pockets of his robes, Draco walked over to the desk and reached out to grab the jar. He stopped just short of it and turned to look back at his head of house. Snape watched him closely, arms crossed over this chest. Draco took in the greasy black hair and hooked nose and smiled. _

"_Thank you, Professor Snape, for everything."_

_And with those words, Draco closed his hand against the cool glass and felt the familiar pull behind his navel._


	6. The World He Left Behind

**Chapter 6 – The World He Left Behind**

_Draco landed on wobbly feet in the middle of his mother's sitting room at Malfoy Manor. The glass jar that had acted as the Portkey slipped from between his fingers to land with a soft thud on the plush white carpet beneath him. He took a few deep breaths trying to steady himself. He hated traveling by Portkey; it always unnerved him._

_He smoothed down his robes and took in the familiar room. It looked just as it had the last time he had been there five months ago. Only one thing had changed—a tan and white afghan lay draped over the back of his mother's Queen Anne sofa. He ran his fingers over it, surprised by its softness. It was a great piece and complemented the other furniture in the room perfectly, but he didn't understand its presence there. His mother had never been one for homemade decorations and this sure counted as one._

"_Oh, Draco, there you are."_

_Narcissa stood in the doorway, a small smile on her face. Draco took in the sight and thought she had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long blond hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders. She wore a pale pink blouse over gray slacks and a string of pearls which she pulled at with one long, manicured hand._

"_Hello, mother."_

_He walked forward and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. She pulled him into a warm hug instead and he breathed in the scent of lilies, his mother's signature scent._

"_What's this?" Draco pointed to the afghan when she released him._

"_Oh, that. Your aunt made it for me," she said, waving a hand dismissively._

"_You can't be telling me that aunt Bella—"_

"_I didn't say Bella, now did I?" She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow._

"_But that would mean…" Draco looked at his mother, shell shocked._

"_Andromeda is my sister, Draco. We have written each other over the years and well, with your father and you gone, I was a bit lonely and she came by to visit a few times." Narcissa fiddled with the button on the cuff of her sleeve, avoiding his eyes._

"_Well, I have to say, mother, I wasn't expecting that," Draco stated dryly, still not believing that he had just heard those words from his mother's mouth. He had only heard his aunt Andromeda's name spoken in passing and even then it was only in conjunction with the term blood traitor. Not once had she been referred to fondly by either of his parents. _

_Narcissa looked up at his statement, a smile quaking at the corner of her mouth. Before he knew it, they both erupted into peals of laughter. The tension of the past few months drained away as they collapsed side by side on the couch._

"_I'd like for you to meet her someday," Narcissa said quietly after their laughter subsided. "You'd like her. She isn't deranged like Bella. And she's got a daughter, Nymphadora. She's a Metamorphmagus. I daresay you'd probably get along." There was a wistful look on her face. "Though she was a Hufflepuff." The last statement was followed by his mother's tinkling laughter._

_Draco slipped a hand over his hers and closed his eyes, concentrating on the warmth of her hand and the scent of her perfume. He wanted to take her all in, commit every little thing about her to memory in case it was the last time. A pang of guilt ran through him. The plan was going to break her heart. _He_ was going to break her heart. _

"Draco…"

Draco opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them and turned to look at Potter. His green eyes were soft, his voice low.

"You don't have to…"

Draco shook his head firmly. Tears were sliding down his cheeks but he quickly brushed them away.

"If it's too hard…"

"No." He knew if he stopped now, he would never get through it.

"The next night, I waited until the house was silent. I was sure mother had gone to bed…"

_He strained his ears for any sound. When he heard none, he pulled himself away from the railing over looking the foyer and padded off down the hall to his room. He threw a Silencing Charm at the door and pulled the two vials Snape had given him out of his nightstand. Draco stared at the gray mist of the Spitting Image potion for a long time. _

"_Can I really do this?" he said out loud to the empty room. _

_He lifted the other vial Snape had given him up to the light. It was empty except for a small drop of clear purple liquid at the bottom. So Snape had given him the Nemesis poison. How fitting. It was the poison that was force fed to those disloyal Death Eaters when they were captured. He was sure the irony wouldn't go unnoticed by Voldemort and the thought brought a smirk to his face._

_He placed the vial with the Nemesis poison on the nightstand then stood in the center of the room, making sure he had enough room around him. Draco pulled the stopper from the vial and lifted it to his lips. Tilting his head back, he swallowed it down. The potion was tasteless, yet melted like cotton candy on his tongue. It was a strange sensation. Only when he was sure he had emptied the entire contents, did his release it from his lips. _

_At first, nothing happened. He stood there listening to his own harsh breathing, panic beginning to rise within him. What if it didn't work? What if Snape had given him the wrong potion? What if—but then he felt it, just a slight tingling at the base of his throat. It began to spread outward and he imagined sparkles of light flowing beneath his skin, making their way to the top of his head and the tips of his toes. He waited until he could feel every inch of his skin pulsating, his nerve endings more alive and sensitive than they ever had been. If the potion wasn't creating a carbon copy of him, he was sure it could have been marketed as a pleasure tool. The sensations were that good. Taking a deep breath, he took the three steps forward and then counted to five. He turned around slowly, heart hammering in his chest and froze._

_His "spitting image" stood before him, same white blond hair, same pale skin, and same gray eyes. But his face was completely neutral, the blank expression in his eyes sending a chill rippling down his spine. He waved a hand in front of the face but all he received in response was that same blank stare. Frustrated, he poked his finger hard into the center of the "other" Draco's chest. Still no response. Snape had been right that he would be useless._

_Knowing he had wasted enough time already, Draco picked up his wand from the nightstand and came back to stand in front his "spitting image." He raised his wand, surprised by the steadiness of his hand. The first time he had cast the Killing Curse only a month earlier, his hand had shook violently. He wasn't in the same situation now and this wasn't an _actual _person, but that didn't make it much easier._

_The "other" Draco stared placidly at him. Pointing the wand at his chest, Draco took a deep breath and spoke the words. The flash of green was blinding and he heard rather than saw the body fall backwards onto the plush carpet with a muffled thump. He thanked Merlin for remembering to cast the Silencing Charm earlier and looked down upon the body, his heart beating erratically in his chest. He levitated it onto the bed and then leaned over it. He thought of his mother looking down on what she would think was her only son. It was going to devastate her. And his father, what would he think? Would he be disappointed? Ashamed? He didn't want think about it; he had more to do._

_Pulling himself away, he grabbed the vial of Nemesis poison, uncorked it and placed it carefully into those cold hands. Barren gray eyes stared up at him and he laid a hand over then, sliding them closed. He would at least be able to spare his mother that sight._

_Satisfied at the placement of everything, he snatched up the vial that had contained the Spitting Image potion and banished it with a flick of his wand. He didn't want any proof left behind. He started to place his wand on the nightstand but thought better of it. Without a second thought, he snapped the slender shaft of wood between his palms. There was a small burst of magic as white sparks erupted from the broken ends and Draco felt his eyes begin to water. There was no turning back now. He ran his fingers lovingly over the splintered wood one last time then with a soft sigh placed it on the nightstand. With one last look at his room, he headed towards the door and cracked it open. Only when he was sure no one was around, did he slip through and close it silently behind him._

_He made it down the main stairway and halfway across the foyer before something stopped him in his tracks. A sliver of light emanated from underneath the door to his mother's sitting room. He put his ear to the door but didn't hear anything. Throwing caution to the wind, he pushed the door open as carefully and quietly as he could. Stepping into the warmth of the room, he was surprised to find the fire still burning brightly in the grate and his mother asleep on the couch, the book she had been reading laying open across her chest. _

_Draco walked over to the couch and couldn't resist placing a tender kiss on her forehead. A wisp of blond hair fell across her forehead and he pushed back. _

"_I'm sorry," he whispered, a sad smile crossing his lips. "I love you, mum."_

_Draco left the room as quickly as he had entered it and headed out of the front door. The cool night air felt good against his flushed skin, the sensation still a bit heightened from the potion. Determination flowed through his veins as he strode down the stone walkway to the front gates. After crossing them, he looked back, taking it all in. Malfoy Manor stood out against the dark sky, gleaming brightly in the moonlight. A flood of memories assaulted him as he gazed on his childhood home. He quashed the bout of nostalgia and turned his back to the scene, disapparating with a small pop._

"Where did you go?"

Potter's voice brought him back to the present. Slowly, the haze he was in faded and he realized Harry's hand had left this shoulder and was now rubbing light circles on his back. He quickly stepped out of the other man's touch, slightly confused. He should have punched him, yelled at him, something other than instantly regretting the lack of warmth on his back. Stealing a look at Potter, he found him leaning casually against the railing as if nothing had happened. A thick black eyebrow lifted in response followed by a smirk. Draco cleared his throat.

"There's this alley three blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron I've apparated to before. I went there."

"And after?" Potter still held that nonchalant stance and as much as he hated to admit it, it made Draco a little nervous.

"I found a place to stay, did what I had to do to survive." He didn't want to think of that time. Some of the things he had done in those first few days were not exactly happy memories. There was no way he was going to tell Potter about that. "I'd rather not go into detail," he said a bit brusquely. Harry just nodded, a look of understand on his face. They stood in silence for awhile, Potter's eyes watching him, Draco purposely avoiding the other man.

"So I guess he's dead?" His eyes were trained once again on the street below and he vaguely wondered how long they had been out there. The street was deserted.

"Who?"

"Snape," Draco answered. There had to be a reason he had not come to find him after the war had ended.

"Severus? No, the old wanker's still very much alive and still teaching Potions at Hogwarts," Harry replied.

Draco's lips tightened into a thin line as he unconsciously gripped the railing. Why hadn't Snape found him?

"I need to see him right away." Potter looked at his watch.

"It's half past eight, Malfoy. Can it wait for tomorrow?"

"No. It can't." His voice was harsh but he didn't care. He needed answers, _now_.

"I'll see if I can reach him."

Potter walked inside and Draco followed. Harry waited for him to pass through the doors before sliding them closed. He slid his wand from his pocket and muttered "reparo," the cracks in the glass disappearing before walking to the fireplace and throwing a handful of floo powder into the flames.

"Severus?" he called as his head disappeared into the green flames. "Severus?" he called again. Draco's heart leapt into his throat when he heard that familiar drawl answer back.

"Potter, to what do I owe this horror?"

"I've got someone here that needs to see you." Draco imagined Snape rolling his eyes.

"Can't it wait till morning, Potter? I've just had to deal with a bunch of idiot fourth year Gryffindors stirring up trouble. I'm not in the mood to chat right now."

"Er, I don't think this can wait. Trust me, Severus. You'll want to see him. So are you going to let us come through or not?" Draco heard an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. You are insufferable, Potter. You know that?"

"Of course I am. My life's work is to torture old Potions' Masters like you." Just then Potter pulled his head back from the flames and grinned cheekily at him. Draco was taken aback by the banter between the two men.

"Are you and Snape…_friends_?" He didn't even try to disguise the shock in his voice. Potter laughed heartily.

"No way am I friends with _him_," he said when his laughter died down. "Acquaintances, yes. There's a mutual respect between us, after all he did fight on our side during the war. And I've had the unpleasantness of having to work beside him, but the man's still a git." Draco smiled at that. Ever the same old Potter.

"Ready?" Harry asked and Draco nodded. He stepped into the flames and disappeared with a whoosh, Draco right behind him.

As he stepped out of the fireplace and into Snape's office, he wasn't surprised to find it looked exactly as it had that day nine years ago when he had last set foot in it. The rows upon rows of jars filled with Potions ingredients still lined the walls and the two large comfy armchairs still sat before the fire in the exact same position as before. And then he looked up and there stood Severus Snape, same black robes, same greasy hair. There were a few more lines around his eyes and streaks of gray at his temples, but otherwise he was still the same man he had seen practically everyday for almost seven years of his life. His former professor had yet to notice him but instead was rambling on to Potter.

"Ever the stupid, reckless Gryffindor interrupting someone else's peace because you want something. What is it you want this time, Potter? Where is…" His words trailed off as his eyes finally found Draco. "It cannot be."

"Professor."

"Draco…"

And before he knew what was happening, Snape quickly walked forward and embraced him. Draco stood awkwardly in his grasp, not quite sure what to do. He had never in a million years expected Snape to hug him. A loud cough from behind startled them both. Potter looked between the two men.

"I think I'll just slip out to see McGonagall."

Snape waved him away, not taking his eyes off Draco. Potter slipped through the door and left them alone. It was Draco who spoke first.

"Why didn't you come find me?" He couldn't help the desperation and sadness that tinged his words.

"I thought you were dead, Draco. There was a fire—"

"I know," he cut in. "Potter told me. Do you know how it happened?"

There was a flicker of something Draco couldn't identify that crossed Snape's face. The older man gestured to the two chairs before the fireplace. After they had settled down and Snape had conjured and poured them both a cup of tea did he begin to talk.

"Voldemort had someone watching the manor. When I didn't hear from Narcissa on Sunday morning, I knew something must have gone wrong. I wanted to go over there but I didn't want to look suspicious. I didn't hear anything the rest of the day; I thought maybe you had changed your mind, that you had decided to take the Mark instead. But when I was summoned that night, the only one there were The Dark Lord and Wormtail. I was told you were caught trying to run away and had been killed. Voldemort said the Manor was burned as a warning to Lucius." Draco could see the fire in Snape's eyes. "I would have killed him right there if I could have, Draco. I wanted to kill the bastard." He didn't doubt the man's words for a second. "If I believed for even a minute that there was still a chance you were alive, I would have gone looking for you. I would have found you." He could see the guilt in the Snape's eyes.

"Professor…"

"You may call me Severus, Draco. I am no longer your teacher and we are both adults." Draco nodded.

"So how did you end up with Potter?" Snape asked, the emotion he had seen only a few moments earlier already gone. "I'm surprised you haven't strangled him with your bare hands yet." Draco thought about their earlier scuffle and laughed.

"I almost did."

Snape raised an eyebrow in question and Draco began to tell him of the path that led him to Potter. When he finished, he looked over to find Snape studying the fire.

"You do realize that you will be questioned by the Ministry, most likely during a hearing in front of the Wizengamot. They've taken to using Veritaserum when interrogating those associated with Voldemort during the war. Are you willing to submit to that, Draco?"

"If it gets me my life back, yes." He didn't care if they forced him to take the truth serum. He had nothing to hide, at least as far as that night was concerned.

"I'll help you anyway I can."

He heard the sincerity in Severus' voice and felt his heart lighten a bit. At least he had one ally in this, well two, if he counted Potter. He thought again of that moment on the balcony and Potter's hand on his back. It had been a comfort as much as he hated to admit it.

"Draco, are you alright?" Snape was looking at him strangely.

"I'm fine. I think I better find Potter. It's getting late and I know you've got classes in the morning."

Draco rose from his seat, placing the teacup on the silver tray that was hovering between them. Snape placed his own teacup on it then banished the tray with a flick of his wand.

"That may be wise," Snape replied as they made their way over to the office door. "I've got a full day of classes tomorrow, the first with Gryffindor."

"Are they still as idiotic as they were in my years?" Draco asked. If they had a penchant for stupidity as Potter and his friends did during their time at Hogwarts, he would surely have his hands full.

"Even more so," Snape replied.

They walked through the halls, the dampness of the dungeons familiar and comforting. He took in the bare stone walls, the blazing torches, the smell of various potions hanging in the air. He knew there was a wistful smile on his face but he didn't care. Hogwarts had been his home for almost seven years. Snape must have noticed for he laid a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"You miss it, don't you?" Draco nodded.

"So that old bat McGonagall is still teaching? Thought she would have retired by now. Where are we going anyway?" he asked when he realized they were heading in the opposite direction of McGonagall's office. "I thought we were going to get Potter?"

Snape's only reply was a smirk.

They reached the large gargoyle that hid the entrance to the Dumbledore's office and made their way up the spiral staircase in silence. The door to the office swung open as they reached the top of the stairs as if they were expected. Remembering the old codger and his penchant for being all-knowing, he was sure they were.

"Come in, Severus." Draco stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes. Of course it had to be _her_. "Mr. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to see you again. Potter's just been telling me your tale. Welcome back."

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall reached out a long wrinkled hand and Draco shook it. She sat down behind the large desk that had once been occupied by Dumbledore and indicated to the empty seat in front of it. Potter lounged languidly in the other one, arms stretched behind his head. Draco pulled his eyes away from the ex-Gryffindor and turned back to McGonagall who was looking between the two of them with a something akin to humor, though he wasn't quite sure.

"I'm glad to see you two have put your childish animosity to rest. It was always quite exhausting for all those involved. I have to say, I never thought I'd see the day you two could be in this room together for more than five seconds without trying to rip each other to shreds. It's nice to see that you have both grown up." She smiled kindly at the both of them. "If there's anything we can do to help, Mr. Malfoy, don't hesitate to ask. I'm sure everything will work out fine but if you need anything, both Severus and I are here for you. You were once my student and never have I denied help to a student, current or former."

"Thank you," he replied automatically. Draco felt a surge of hope at her words. To think McGonagall was offering her help sent his mind reeling. Maybe the war had changed everything and everyone.

"Now if you two men will excuse us. I have some matters to discuss with Severus. Harry, the papers will be drawn up and ready to sign in two days. Mr. Malfoy." She nodded at him and he nodded back. Severus clapped him on the back.

"I'll be in touch."

He followed Potter out of the office and down the spiral staircase his mind whirling with all the information he had learned that day. They were silent as they walked through the moonlit halls but something outside caught Draco's eye and he stopped to look out one of the large lead glass windows.

He could see the quidditch pitch in the distance, the goal posts gleaming in the moonlight. The sight sent a wave longing through him. The need to fly again was overwhelming. He remembered the feel of the wind stinging his cheeks, the way the tips of his fingers tingled with anticipation the closer he got to the snitch, the slight nuances in the air that indicated which way to shift his body to gain more speed. God, he wanted to, no, _needed_ to feel that again. The longing must have been evident on his face for Potter was instantly beside him, eyes following Draco's line of sight.

"Care for a rematch, Malfoy?"

A/N: Nemesis is the Greek goddess of retribution and vengeance.


	7. Interruptions

**Disclaimer:** All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, WB and company. I'm just playing with them.

**A/N:** This was written after OotP and disregards HBP and DH.

Sorry this took so long. New job has been cutting into my writing time but it's slowing down so I won't make the wait between this and chapter 8 almost a month, I promise. Hopefully this will make up for it. coughboykissingcough lol.

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Interruptions**

_Care for a rematch, Malfoy?_

The words hung in the air between them as they stood in the darkened Hogwarts hallway. The Quidditch pitch beckoned to him and who was he to resist the call? Slowly, a grin began to spread across Draco's face. Quidditch, flying, getting the chance to kick Potter's arse—the adrenaline was already pumping through his veins.

"You're on, Potter!"

Draco turned and took off at a run. He felt thirteen again, his only objective now as it had been then—to prove he was better than Potter. The footsteps behind him were getting closer and he chanced a glance back to see the same silly grin blooming across Harry's face. He couldn't help the laugh that erupted from his chest as he turned around and sprinted past the Great Hall. They burst through the front doors, side by side, arms and shoulders brushing as they ran down the narrow tree-lined path toward the Quidditch pitch.

"Think you can catch it this time, Malfoy?"

Draco couldn't help the smirk that graced his lips.

"Watch me."

He looked over to find Potter staring at him, face hidden in shadow. There was a gleam of white teeth when he smiled and as they reached the end of the path and the trees dissipated, the rest of Potter's face was slowly revealed. His eyes were sparkling, shining emerald in the moonlight, long black strands of hair whipping around his face. Draco smiled back, his heart speeding up in his chest and then berated himself. What was he doing?

Glad that they had finally reached the broom shed, Draco rested his hands on his thighs, practically doubling over in an effort to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter do the same.

Once they had both recovered, Harry got up and walked to the shed door pointing his wand at the lock. He muttered some words Draco was sure weren't _Alohomora_ and the door flew open, Potter muttering _Lumos_ so they could see inside.

There was an array of old brooms, some of which he was sure had to have been from their time at Hogwarts. Potter grabbed one of the newest looking ones and Draco caught a glimpse of the gold lettering etched into the handle—S_tarburst 3000_. The broom was long and sleek, the handle artfully carved with shooting stars. Even the bristles on the tail looked unnaturally smooth, no doubt creating one amazing ride. But there were scratches on the underside showing its frequent use. Hoping there was at least another like it, Draco walked into the shed, Potter holding his wand aloft to illuminate the small space for him.

The rest of the brooms in the shed were old and ratty compared to the _Starburst_ and Draco felt a niggling of irritation at the fact that Potter would once again end up with a better broom. But then a shiny black handle caught his eye and he smiled. It may not be the best broom anymore, but he knew how it handled, knew all of its nuances. After all, he had ridden that exact same broom almost every day for six years of his life. Draco grabbed the _Nimbus 2001_ and felt a slight tingle of magic rush through him. Oh, he was so ready for this.

Potter grabbed the Golden Snitch from the quidditch trunk that held the practice balls and the two men walked out onto the pitch.

The smell of fresh cut grass assaulted Draco's senses and he breathed in deeply. The stands loomed above them as he came to a halt at the center of the pitch. He still remembered the first time he had walked out there in his second year, the excitement and nervousness ebbing through his veins. The deafening roar of the crowd as they waited for Madam Hooch to start the game had only added to it. Instinctively, his eyes were drawn to the house banners which swung lightly in the breeze, the green and silver of Slytherin quickly catching his eye. Oh, how he missed those days.

"Ready?" Potter hovered a few feet off the ground, waiting.

At Draco's nod, Harry mounted his broom and sped off doing a circuit around the pitch. Draco followed suit a second later, pushing himself off from the ground. He wobbled for a moment, but his natural instincts took over and soon he was soaring around the pitch as he had done a thousand times over. Once he had completed a whole circuit, he came back to hover across from Potter, the Snitch wiggling impatiently in the Harry's hand.

They stared each other down, challenge behind each other's eyes until Harry raised his hand high the air between them and opened his palm. The Snitch fluttered its wings frantically for a moment before taking off into the night sky.

"Go!"

Potter's voice echoed around him and Draco took off without a hitch. He soared upwards, relishing the cool light air ghosting across his cheeks. He kept his eyes and ears peeled for the Snitch and for Harry who had flown towards the opposite end of the pitch. He spotted him a moment later, head titled upwards, eyes closed. Draco's mind flashed back to that night he had seen Potter in the hall praying and he wondered why he would be doing that now of all times. But then he was on the move and Draco mentally kicked himself. He had been listening for the Snitch.

The blond raced after him. He had to catch the Snitch this time or else Potter would be able to hold it over his head that he had never beaten him in Quidditch. _He_ wanted to be the one to hold it over Potter's head and this was his chance.

Draco threw all his weight behind his broom and flew faster than he ever remembered, easily catching up to Potter. He spotted the Snitch not too far in front of them and leaned forward urging his broom to go faster. The Snitch swerved suddenly and headed towards the stands and he followed it, maneuvering his broom to the right. He turned too fast bumping into Harry and knocking him sideways. Unconsciously, Draco reached out and grabbed Potter's arm while the other man tried desperately to right himself. When he finally did, he sent a grin at the blond that almost stopped his heart.

"Geez, Malfoy, no need to kill me." Draco felt the brush creep across his cheeks.

"It was an accident, Potter."

"I know," Harry replied still smiling. "Lighten up, Malfoy. I was just teasing. Come on, let's go catch that Snitch." And he took off again, leaving Draco staring after him feeling like a complete idiot.

"It's on now, Potter," he muttered to himself as he sped off after the other man.

When he reached him, he saw the Snitch only inches from his hand and Slytherin instinct took over. Elbowing Potter hard in the ribs, Draco lunged forward and closed his hand around the Golden Snitch. But even as he did so, Harry came at him with an elbow dig of his own sending Draco whirling towards the ground. He heard Potter's gasp followed by "shit!" as he started to fall. The world became a giant blur before his eyes. He struggled to bring some semblance of control back to the broom before he went slamming into the ground. But then Potter was beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him upright as they both went diving toward the hard earth. Seconds before they slammed into it, he felt Potter's arm around his waist jerk him roughly backwards and then he was lying flat on his back on the pitch, Harry right beside him.

They lay side by side on the grass, panting heavily, Draco's limbs feeling jelly-like, as if someone had banished all the bones from his body. He stared up at the starry sky listening as both their breathing slowed to normal. Only when he felt the Snitch stop vibrating in his palm did he even realize he was still holding it.

"Well, look at that," he purred, opening up his palm and lifting it up to the moonlight. "I've caught the Golden Snitch. Potter, it seems your reign has ended." He knew he was smirking but he couldn't help it. It felt so great to _finally_ beat Potter at something.

"Just couldn't resist, could you, Malfoy?"

"No," he answered simply and Harry laughed.

"That elbow to the ribs was very Slytherin of you," Potter said.

"Thank you," Draco replied and this time they both laughed.

They lay in comfortable silence and for the first time in a long time, Draco realized he felt completely and utterly relaxed. _I almost feel normal again, _he thought.

Potter shifted beside him, putting his hands behind his head. The action lifted the hem of the black shirt he was wearing, exposing a sliver of skin that, for a second, Draco couldn't tear his eyes from. Then realizing what he was doing, he lifted his eyes back to the sky, hoping the blush edging its way across his cheeks wasn't visible.

"Why didn't you join the Death Eaters?"

Annoyance flared in Draco at the other man's question. Couldn't they get through one hour without talking about the past? He had been enjoying himself and, as usual, Potter had to go and ruin it.

"Don't be stupid. You know as well as I do what a madman _he_ was."

"The _real_ reason, Malfoy." There was an edge of irritation in his voice and Draco heard him shift beside him again. He looked over to see Potter pulling a lighter from his pocket and lighting the cigarette he already held in his other hand.

"Smoke?" he asked after he had taken the first drag.

Draco took the proffered cigarette and inhaled. It had been almost a year since he had last smoked. He savored the flavor and felt himself relax. He handed the cigarette back to Potter and watched as he took another drag. Draco's eyes were once again glued to his lips as he watched the smoke rise from between perfect pinkness just as he had that first time.

"So you gonna tell me or what?" Potter turned to him, green eyes illuminated in the moonlight and Draco thought how easy it would be to drown in them, then chastised himself. _When the hell did I get so damn mushy? And over Potter of all people. Get a grip, Draco._

"I didn't want to kill anyone," he answered quietly, turning back to look up at the sky. "And that's what I would have had to do. I would have been on one side of the battle, you or someone else I knew on the other and if we met face to face, I would have had to point the wand and kill you or Granger or Longbottom or anyone else. As much as I hated you and them, killing people I knew, my classmates, people I grew up with, well…I wasn't willing to do that." Potter handed him the cigarette and he took another long drag, then handed it back. "I'm _not_ a killer."

They finished the cigarette in silence and then Harry bounded to his feet, reaching out a hand to help Draco up. He gladly accepted it.

"I never thought you were." Potter's eyes burned into his as he spoke. He could see the sincerity in them and gave him a slight nod in response.

They grabbed their brooms and headed off to the shed. Draco handed over the Snitch, fingers brushing lightly against Potter's. Harry just smiled as he placed it into the trunk and Draco felt his heart stop at the sight. Merlin, he was falling for Potter by the second. What was wrong with him?

They followed the path back up to the school in silence and once they passed through the massive wooden doors, Potter shocked him by heading down to the dungeons.

"Where are we going?"

"The kitchens. I figured after a workout like that we could use some sustenance." Harry sent him another of those impossible grins and Draco had to force himself not to smile back. "Unless you're too good to eat with the houses elves?" His eyebrow rose in challenge.

"I think I'll manage," Draco said with a smirk

The Hogwarts kitchens were not at all what he had expected. The kitchen itself was roughly the size of the Great Hall. Stainless steel dominated the appliances and workstations. It was a far more modern kitchen than he thought a wizarding school as old as Hogwarts would have. Right now there were only half a dozen house elves occupying it, but he could imagine how crazy it must look with a kitchen full of ugly, pointy-eared, little creatures. They hadn't even been there a minute before a house elf popped up in front of them. Draco thought he looked familiar, though he really couldn't tell; all house elves seemed to look the same to him anyway.

"Harry Potter, sir, what can Dobby do for you?"

"Dobby?" Draco's mouth fell open in shock as he stared at his old house elf.

"Master Draco?" Dobby's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Dobby was thinking Master Draco was dead." Dobby threw himself at the blond, arms wrapping around Draco's waist as he sobbed against his abdomen. "Oh Master Draco, Dobby is so happy you is alive!"

Draco's eyes went almost as wide as Dobby's as the house elf clung to him, bawling loudly. He stood there looking to Potter for help, but the other man was giggling like a schoolgirl. He looked down at the creature at his waist then at Harry and felt his own laughter bubbling up. The sound exploded from his chest and he doubled over in a fit of giggles, Dobby backing up from the two laughing men in confusion.

"Dobby is confused, sirs. Did Dobby do something to make Master Draco and Harry Potter laugh?"

The poor elf looked from one man to the other, wringing his hands. Draco caught a glimpse of the other house elves watching from all over the kitchen and it made him laugh even harder. He clutched Potter's shoulder to keep himself upright. Harry turned luminous green eyes on him, but he was no longer laughing, just smiling that stupid smile he seemed to be so fond of tonight. Draco's laughter died away at the sight, but he grinned warmly at the other man sensing the shift between them as he did so. There was no going back this time, no denying that it was Potter making him feel this way. And Draco felt a sort of freeness in the thought he couldn't even begin to explain.

He slid his hand down Potter's shoulder to his bicep and saw his eyes flicker at the action, saw the flare of golden erupt within green. He knew his eyes were mirroring Harry's, flecks of blue coming to life in grey and felt his chest warm at the thought. Potter parted his lips and Draco's eyes took in the delicate Cupid's bow, the perfect plumpness of his bottom lip. The taste would be all tobacco and sweat, he was sure of it. It was hedonistic and possibly the stupidest thing he could or would ever do but he wanted to kiss Potter all the same and have him kiss him back.

"Harry…"

His fingers gripped Potter's bicep harder and pulled him forward, satisfaction running through him when the other man didn't resist. They were almost chest to chest now, the heat from Potter's body rolling off him in waves. There was no nervousness, just a sense of calm as he stood there before him. He knew Harry was waiting for him to make the first move and so he did, leaning forward slowly, grey eyes locked on green, Potter's breath ghosting across his lips…

"Master Draco? What is you _doing_ to Harry Potter, sir?" The poor elf looked scandalized.

Harry closed his eyes and groaned as Draco took a step back. He was going to kill Dobby. Of all the times that stupid little creature chose to interrupt…

"He was just going to tell me a secret, Dobby. Don't worry. Draco wouldn't have hurt me." The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up and Draco could feel his frustration disintegrating. "Could you make us some sandwiches, Dobby? And could we have two glasses of pumpkin juice as well?" Harry asked the little elf kindly.

"Oh yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will be getting those." And with that, he scurried off.

"Well, that was…inconvenient." Potter hopped up onto the counter. Draco leaned back against the opposite counter, arms crossed over his chest. He watched Harry sitting cross-legged on the table, hair falling in a curtain around his face, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He looked like a little boy sitting there but when he spoke the voice that came out was deep and masculine.

"Dobby has a tendency to pop up at the most inconvenient of times. Let's just say he caught me in a very compromising position once and the sight almost gave him a heart attack." He chuckled and Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Ugh. I don't think I could look at him again, knowing he'd seen me naked. Aren't you afraid he's wanks off to you every night?" Now it was Harry's turn to make a face.

"Christ, Malfoy! You just had to go and put that image in my head. Gross."

It was at this moment that Dobby chose to return with the plate of sandwiches and the two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry's face turned beet red at the sight and Draco had to stifle his laughter.

"Thank you, Dobby." Harry could barely look at him as he took the proffered food. "We're just gonna go now…um…night." And he left the kitchen as fast as he could, the doors swinging in his wake.

"Is something wrong with Harry Potter, Master Draco?" Dobby was wringing his hands, giving the blond a worried look. Draco only laughed.

"He's just really hungry."

"Oh." Dobby didn't look too convinced, but bid him farewell anyway. "Goodnight Master Draco." He watched the house elf return to the other end of the kitchen before walking out into the hallway. He found Harry waiting for him, a look of relief washing over his face when he saw that it was Draco and not Dobby coming through the doors.

"I hate you, Malfoy. You know that?"

"I hate you too, Potter, so we're even." He smirked. "Great Hall?" he asked as they approached the ground floor. Harry nodded.

The Great Hall was just as Draco had remembered it. The enchanted ceiling glittered above them with hundreds of stars just as the sky had outside. Two large candelabras flanked the head table and were the only source of light in the room aside from the moonlight pouring in from the large stained glass windows that ran along the right wall. The house banners hung over their respective tables and that's when Draco noticed Harry heading toward the Gryffindor one.

"I'm not sitting at the _Gryffindor_ table," he said petulantly. He began walking toward the Slytherin table when Potter stopped him.

"I'm not sitting at the _Slytherin_ table," he mocked. Draco glared at him.

"Fine, Ravenclaw then. There's no way I'm sitting at the _Hufflepuff_ table." He said the word as if it were the vilest thing in the world.

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Harry asked and Draco could see him holding back a smile.

"The fact that you even have to ask, Potter, says a lot."

"You're such a snob, Malfoy."

Harry jumped up onto the table top and sat cross-legged, placing the plate of sandwiches in front of him. Draco followed mirroring his position. They dug into the sandwiches with gusto.

"So what papers was McGonagall talking about?" Draco asked through bites of his sandwich. Harry stared blankly at him. "In the office she mentioned something about papers being drawn up."

"Oh, that. My contract." Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm taking over Flying Lessons next year. Hooch retired," he explained. "Of course, I'll be refereeing quidditch as well, which should be fun."

"No more chasing after dark wizards for The Boy Who Lived?"

"I think I've had enough dark wizards to last me ten lifetimes, thank you." He took a long gulp of pumpkin juice, draining his glass.

"So what have you been doing all this time?" Draco finished off his own pumpkin juice then leaned back on his hands.

"I traveled for a bit." Harry finished the last bite of his sandwich then leaned back on his hands mirroring Draco. "I just needed to get away. The press wouldn't leave me alone so I decided the easiest way to get rid of them was to disappear. I traveled all over Europe and Asia. Tokyo was amazing. You should have seen some of the things the Muggles came up with over there." Harry was grinning as he talked. "I swear there has to be wizards involved somewhere in the production of some of those products because it's just unbelievable." He let out a deep throaty chuckle then plopped down on his back and stretched out, his legs dangling over the edge of the table. He rested his head on his hands and gazed up at the enchanted ceiling.

"You know, after all these years, this ceiling still fascinates me," Potter stated dreamily.

Draco said nothing, just watched him between lowered lashes. Harry's jumper had ridden up just as it had on the pitch and Draco's eyes were once again drawn to it. He kept talking, whether oblivious to the way Draco was looking at him or purposely ignoring it, he didn't know.

"I've filled in for the Madam Hooch a couple times over the past two years and loved it. She took quite a nasty fall last month, fractured her hip. Guess she realized she was getting a little too old for the job and decided to retire before she breaks something else," Harry said with a laugh. He lifted himself up onto his elbows. "So that's how I got the job." And there was that grin again.

Harry hopped down off the table, gathering up the plate and glasses, Draco following. Just as they crossed the threshold between the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall, the dishes disappeared from his hands with a small pop.

"Minerva's left the Floo open in one of the classrooms so we don't have to disturb Severus," Harry said as they walked. "It should be down here."

Harry led them down a series of hallways Draco was sure weren't there during his Hogwarts days. He stopped to peer into one of the doors and was surprised to find what looked like a small library.

"Where are we?" he asked, positive he didn't remember any of these rooms.

"The Faculty Wing. There's a disillusionment charm on this part of the castle that doesn't allow students to see it. Only faculty and staff are permitted here. That's the Faculty Library." He indicated to the door Draco was standing in front of. "Some of the books in there are so full of dark magic they won't even risk putting them in the Restricted Section. You'd be amazed at what the teachers were hiding from us when we were students."

He opened the door across the hall and gestured for Draco to enter. The room was dark except for the bright green flames burning in the fireplace. A large pentagram was carved into the stone floor in front of them.

"It's a ritual room," Harry said from behind him. His breath ghosted across Draco's nape and the blond had to stop his eyes from fluttering shut in response. "It's been here for ages. Legend has it that this was Rowena Ravenclaw's personal study and that that there—" he reached a hand over Draco's shoulder to point at the pentagram "—was actually carved by the witch herself. Fascinating, huh?"

"Yeah, fascinating."

Potter's lips worked their way up his nape to his ear and then Potter's tongue was tracing the shell and this time he did let his eyes flutter shut. When Harry bit down softly on the lobe, Draco let out a small groan. Potter's mouth was like fire on his skin, burning him with every touch. Merlin, he wouldn't mind being bathed in fire if this is what it felt like.

"Malfoy…"

"Draco," the blond corrected him. "Call me Draco." He felt Harry's lips spread into a smile as he pressed another kiss at his nape.

"Draco," he whispered in his ear and Draco turned to face him. He was tired of waiting.

Slipping an arm behind Potter's head, Draco pulled him forward until their faces were only an inch apart. "Harry," he murmured before closing the gap between them. Draco ran his tongue over Potter's lower lip and smiled into the kiss. He tasted just as he had imagined he would, like sweat and tobacco with a swirl of pumpkin juice holding it all together. Hands encircled his waist pulling him flush against Potter's hard body. He nibbled on his bottom lip, sucking on it before pulling his mouth entirely away. Flushed and with slightly unfocused eyes, Harry stared at him for a moment before capturing Draco's lips beneath his own. Eyes still locked, he plunged his tongue into the cavern of Draco's mouth and when the blond reciprocated, he saw Potter's pupils dilate until only a thin band of green encircled them. Watching his reaction, watching the intensity in the other man's eyes was, to him, the most erotic thing in the world. He would never kiss Harry with his eyes closed again; he was sure of it.

"Oh Sibyl, are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Pomona, I'm absolutely positive. A frost will come and destroy them all. I'd suggest you take precautionary measures as soon as possible."

The two men simultaneously groaned, stepping away from each other at the sound of the women's voices. They stood staring at the door as Trelawney and Sprout made their way past the room, down the hall and out of ear shot.

"It never seems to fail, does it?" Harry asked when he was sure the two Professors were gone. Draco smirked.

"Maybe we should go before Dobby decides to show up again. Don't want to give him anything else to wank off to."

"Nice, Malfoy. Great way to kill the mood." But even as he said the words, he stalked over to Draco, grin wide on his face.

Harry kissed him again, but tenderly this time, his hands sliding up into the blond hair, thumbs rubbing circles against his temples. Draco felt, rather then heard the other man sigh into his mouth and when the kiss ended, they were both grinning like idiots.

"Ready?" he asked, green eyes alight with mischief. Draco nodded and Harry, laughing, ran into the flames and disappeared with a whoosh.


End file.
